


Devils in the Dark

by lickitysplit, solynacea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Credo's a Bastard, Dante's a Bastard, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Nero's a Bastard, No Spardacest, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, dark smut, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickitysplit/pseuds/lickitysplit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solynacea/pseuds/solynacea
Summary: A series of connected one-shots exploring darker and often heavy themes. Please mind the tags and the author's note for each chapter regarding content warnings.
Relationships: Credo (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s), Dante (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s), Nero (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	Devils in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first one-shot in this series
> 
> Lir, or Lirael Thorne, is solynacea's original character; while the name stays across the other DMC fics that we've written together and solo, it's kind of a catch-all, and each Lir is different to the one before. In this tale, she's an orphan alongside Nero who realizes that something is not quite right with the Order of the Sword.
> 
> This chapter contains emotional manipulation and a notable imbalance of power in terms of both position within the Order and the personal relationship between Lir and Credo.
> 
> We understand that the topics are heavy and the characters are incredibly out of character. This series was an experiment in writing topics that are darker in nature and exploring the effects they can have on the characters. Again, we ask that you exercise caution in reading; if these are topics that make you uncomfortable or are personally triggering for you, we'd advise you to skip this story.

Trekking through the halls of the Church of the Savior, Lir feels the same bittersweet mixture of hope and realism that brew within her whenever she has to do anything with or for Credo. Like Nero, she'd made the mistake of growing attached to one of the siblings they've lived with for the past eight-odd years, but, while Kyrie more than reciprocates Nero's love, Credo has always kept Lir at arm's length. It's the same cold distance of his parents, one that she  _ should  _ be more than used to, but the admiration that turns her into a blushing mess when he's around makes it sting more than she'd like.

Still, she has  _ some  _ reasons to think maybe that's changing. More and more in the recent months, he's asked for her to tend to him specifically, running his messages and grabbing whatever he needs from the scribes once her morning training is done. She cannot be a knight, thanks to the fact that she's a woman, but he's been more . . . tolerant, lately, of her joining in on their sessions. Sometimes he's even been downright helpful, correcting her stance, even if his voice is sharp whenever he has to.

That's the only reason why she'd made an effort with herself this morning. It's her birthday, her nineteenth, the year when, traditionally, a suitor will be selected for her. Even though she plans to be gone in a year—hopefully taking the whole Order down with her, if it comes to that—a small part of her hopes that Credo is taking notice of her, that he plans to court her, that  _ maybe  _ she can have him as an ally and a lover. So, she'd shaved her, well, everything below the neck, really, and put on a bit of mascara, and tried to tame her hair into some semblance of a respectable style.

Lir reaches the door to his office, and takes a deep breath as she carefully smooths her skirt down. Then she knocks, waiting for his curt, "Enter," to open the door and step inside.

"You're late," he says without turning around.

Lir swallows and closes the door. Credo is reading something as he stands in front of his desk, and she steps to the side to try to catch his gaze. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, placing her hands behind her back as the soldiers do when they address a commander. 

He makes a noise that could mean anything, but still does not turn. She takes a moment to look over his broad shoulders and the strong frame, one he prides himself on when working on the practice field or leading exercises. She glances at the window, seeing that it is still midafternoon, Fortuna relatively calm; just an ordinary day.

"Did you need something?" Lir finally asks.

"Yes," he replies. Credo glances over his shoulder, and then pauses with a frown. Slowly he turns, looking her over, and lir's heart picks up a bit of speed. "You look different."

"I wanted . . ."  _ To look nice for you.  _ "I wanted to make more of an effort. You always say that a soldier should take pride in all aspects of their life."

"Yes." He scrutinizes her with a narrow-eyed stare, and her palms begin to sweat where she's clasped them together. It  _ is  _ something he's fond of saying whenever one of his troops arrives late or looking untidy, but she knows that there's a fair bit of contention to the idea that she might, in any way, be a soldier. "Sit."

Lir hurries to do as he's ordered, settling into the chair across from his desk and keeping her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. "What can I do for you?"

Credo, still watching her, moves to stand between her and the table, leaning back against its edge with his arms crossed over his chest. "Today is your birthday," he says, and she nods. "You're nineteen now, a woman grown. I remember Kyrie's ceremony. His Holiness praised her highly."

Uncertain of where he's heading, and trying her best not to get her hopes up, she replies, "She deserved it." It's the proper thing to say, no matter how much it makes her stomach churn; her entire life, she has been held to two standards: Nero, and Kyrie. And she's never truly measured up to either.

Credo ignores her remark and says, "Now that my parents are . . . gone, your care has fallen to me. And it is time for you to decide what your path will be in life." Lir's eyes open a bit wider as he lifts his chin. "My father indulged your fantasies of becoming a Holy Knight despite the impossibility. So what is your plan, Lir?"

“I . . ." She can't exactly tell him she plans to destroy the Order and kill Sanctus. Hearing Credo talk so coldly about his parents is a bit jarring, their death having caused a huge upheaval in their strange family. Nero and Kyrie had particularly been affected, while Credo had dealt with it with a cold efficiency, much like Lir.

"Women in Fortuna marry," he continues. "Your actions are for the Holy One, who speaks for Sparda."

She mulls over her options, trying to find an answer that will appease him without being an outright lie. "I thought I might join the sisters in the archives for a year," she says. "I wish to learn more of Sparda and his victories, as well as make myself useful to the Order. And," she adds quickly, when his lips twist down, "I know that many women take a few years of servitude before marriage."

"Those women," he replies, "are already engaged before they enter the service. You are not, and it would be . . . improper for one who is unattached to be there."

Lir takes a deep breath. "Then do you have a suggestion, sir?"

"There are many families in Fortuna that are fine and would be a good match for you," he says. 

"Married?" she gasps. "You want me to get  _ married?" _

"Not now, of course," he replies, waving his hand. "I'm talking about being serious about your future. You can't be a soldier. So you need to face reality. You will be someone's wife and raise a family. And it is time to start thinking of who."

He walks around the desk and moves to pick up a stack of papers, but Lir shakes her head. "No. No, I don't want that."

The only sign of his displeasure is the way his fingers twitch, but it's enough for her to know that there's about to be an argument. "It is the path all women take, and it is just as important as fighting. You will help raise the next generation of soldiers for the Order, supporting your husband and setting a godly example."

"But I can fight just as well as anyone else!" He exhales sharply, and she winces and tries to lower her voice. "I can. I've been training just as long as Nero has, and—"

"Nero," he says sharply, "was always meant to be a soldier. You were not. I warned my father that entertaining this would cause problems in the future, and look where we are."

Lir pushes to her feet. "You can't just pick a husband for me out of a catalogue," she snaps, gesturing to his desk. "This isn't the Dark Ages! What if I want to travel? What if I want to get out of here?"

"Leave Fortuna?" he snorts. "Where will you go? With what money?"

She grits her teeth and scowls. "I'm meant to be more than just a wife. I don't want a husband! Besides, what about love?"

Credo's brows shoot up, and then he shakes his head and laughs. "You really are something else. My father took you in, gave you a home—"

"A home!"

"And you would spit on his memory with this refusal!"

Credo's voice twists a bit in emotion, making her pause. There is something in his face she has never seen, something like pain.  _ He must not know, _ she thinks, remembering the report she read in secret about the demons that killed his parents. Credo must not know about the Order's true agenda, and that fills her with both pity and anger.

"You. Are all. The same," she growls, stepping towards him. Credo steps back, pressing against the desk as she stalks closer. "You men in this place, you think you can do whatever you want, take whatever you want. You think the lives in this city are just for you to use, like game pieces. When you're really just a bunch of fucking assholes."

She is standing right in front of him, and Credo scowls down at her, their faces nearly touching. "What are you saying?" he hisses.

"I'm saying that it's all bullshit! Your father gave me a  _ home?  _ A home is where you're loved. He gave me a roof and a bed and, yeah, that's great, but the only reason he did it at all was because  _ Nero wouldn't go with him if he didn't.  _ I might as well have stayed in the orphanage for all the good his  _ home  _ did for me. And all of this?" She gestures to the office. "You can sit up here and pretend that you know what's best, that all those nasty, dark little secrets don't exist—"

His hand clamps over her mouth so tightly that it knocks the wind out of her in surprise. Lir grabs at his wrist, tugging at it as he chest heaves and his eyes burn with an emotion she can't read. "You  _ dare,"  _ he growls. "You dare to insult not only him, but the Order as well? Speak another word, and I'll arrest you for treason."

They glare at one another, until Lir relaxes a bit. Slowly he removes his hand from her mouth, but instead of drawing away, he slides it around her neck and into her hair. "Credo," she whispers. "You know I'm right."

"It doesn't matter," he mutters. "You can't change the way things are."

Lir can feel tears threatening behind her eyes as she searches his face. How many times had she wanted just his touch? But not like  _ this, _ and she shakes with renewed anger that everything she ever wanted was taken away by the Order.

She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his. Credo stiffens but does not pull away, his hand tightening in her hair. After a long moment, Lir stops for a deep breath. Credo looks as though he is struggling, but to do what she doesn't know. "What do you think you're doing?" he demands.

"You said it was time to start thinking of the future, and who. And I . . ."

His brows creep higher with every word until her voice tapers off. She's certain that she's made a mistake, something that's only reinforced when he asks, "You throw a tantrum about marriage, and now you want me to believe that you wish to marry me?"

"I know you," she explains, "and I've always thought . . . When Kyrie and I were younger, we played the game with apple peels. Where you throw it on the ground and it gives you the first letter of the one you're going to marry. I always thought mine was a C."

"This is nonsense."

He tries to pull away, but Lir pulls him back for another kiss. Credo growls into her mouth, so she bites his lip until he pulls her hair and jerks her back. "Enough."

"I want you," she breathes, her chest rising and falling. Lir presses forward, grabbing his coat and holding tightly. "I've always wanted you, and all they've done is take everything from me. Well, I want to take something too."

He studies her, pressing his lips to a thin line. "You have always been reckless and impertinent, and I'm inclined to believe this is another of your tricks. Why should I think of this as anything other than yet another tiring attempt for you to sway things to your favor?"

"It's not. I swear, it's not."

Credo grips her by the arms and pushes her away, though he doesn't release her. "If you want any sort of faith from me," he says coldly, "then you're going to prove that you can be obedient, that your indiscretions were nothing more than youthful mistakes."

Lir blinks, shaking her head. "I don't understand."

He releases her arm and presses a hand to her cheek. His caress is unexpected, and she gasps as he strokes her skin with his thumb. "You could do anything, Lir," he murmurs. "Why not use your talents to serve the Order?"

"How?"

His touch is cool and delightful, the leather of his glove soft against her face, and the steady rhythm with which he traces the sweep of her cheek is almost hypnotizing. "All you must do is obey. Can you?" She nods, stunned as his face draws closer, and his lips curl ever-so-slightly. "Take off your clothes and kneel."

He lets go, and she almost stumbles, a cry that she swallows bubbling in her throat. If she does this, and does it correctly, will it prove to him that she genuinely wants him? Would he accept her offer? If they marry, there will be some sort of trust between them, and maybe she can use that to show him the truth of the Order, to turn him away from them. But she's never done this before, and her hands shake as she unlatches the straps that usually hold White Queen to her back and sets them on the chair.

Behind her, Lir hears Credo moving, and when she turns she sees him removing his coat. Their eyes lock, gazes remaining on one another as both unbutton their own shirts. Credo leaves his on, just hanging open, however, as she pulls hers off.

Lir feels gooseflesh rise on her bare arms when her hands move to her belt. Credo's do the same, removing his own, the buckle making a loud thud on the desk when hers makes a dull sound when it hits the carpeted floor. 

He leans back against the desk, his hands gripping the edge as he watches her remove her shoes. Finally she peels down her skirt and the leggings underneath until she is only in her panties and bra, and she swallows as she looks back up at him.

"You said you wanted to take what you wanted, Lir," he murmurs. His voice is deep, with a trace of warning, making her heart leap into her throat. "Do you still want that?"

"Yes," she whispers.

"Then come, and remember your orders."

She swallows thickly and moves to stand in front of him, realizing in a dull sort of way that while she is stripped bare, the only thing he's removed is his belt, even his gloves still firmly covering his hands. It makes her shiver, distracts her so that it takes a moment for her to remember what he'd told her to do. Slowly, Lir lowers herself to her knees, perching on her haunches, uncertain of where to look or what to do with her own hands, and she holds her breath when he reaches out to brush her hair from her face.

"Tell me, have you given yourself to another?" She shakes her head, and there's a hint of what might be pleasure in his voice when he hums. "In that, at least, you were dutiful."

"Credo, I . . ."

Her words fade away when he starts to open his pants. Lir looks upwards and finds his face in deep concentration. The zipper undone, he reaches inside, and her eyes flicker to the movement of his hand under the fabric. "Is this what you meant by taking what you wanted, Lir?" he asks.

"I didn't think that . . ." 

He pulls his cock out of his pants, stroking himself. Lir bites her lip as she watches, curious but nervous, unsure of what to do. "If you want something in this world," he says, "You have to take it for yourself." His thumb rubs against the flushed head. 

She knows what he means. Or she thinks she does. As inexperienced as she might be, she's not utterly naive, and she and Kyrie had once snuck to a library outside of the Order and found books where the plot was a thin reason for sex, and she's heard enough locker room talk to understand. But  _ knowing  _ what he expects and knowing  _ how  _ to do it are two separate things, and she reaches up tentatively, her eyes on his face for any sign she's doing something wrong.

He doesn't stop her from curling her fingers around his cock, his only movement being to adjust her grip. "You cannot simply wait for it to be handed to you," he murmurs.

Lir blinks, but his hand is already in her hair, urging her up and forward until her lips press to the tip of his length. "Credo, I don't know what to do."

"Your first in all things," he muses. "Delightful. Open your mouth."

Immediately she obeys, and Credo pulls her forward. The head of his cock pushes into her mouth, and he rocks his hips back and forth, sliding in and out. Lir blinks rapidly as she tries to catch her breath; it feels odd, but not unpleasant, the taste of him a strange mix of salt and musk. She tries her best to be still and let him work, and after a minute of this he presses further into her mouth, forcing her to quickly adjust to take his entire length.

"Mm, that's it," he whispers. The bit of praise feels hollow, but it pleases her anyway, and Lir wraps her lips tightly around him. Credo pumps his hips to fuck her slowly, and she concentrates on the feel of his length in her mouth and keeping her teeth from grazing him. At one point he fills her and she swallows rapidly, not wanting to pull away and risk disappointing him. Credo groans as her throat works to breathe around him, until finally he eases back. "There," he says. "I've shown you what to do. Now it's your turn."

She takes a moment to catch her breath before leaning in. His pace had been steady, though not quick, and she does her best to mimic it as she wraps her lips around him. The first few passes are awkward until she braces her hands on his thighs, and then it's easier, if still strange, to please him like this, particularly when the head nudges the back of her throat and causes the insane urge to sneeze.

Luckily, she doesn't.

Credo says nothing, and makes very little noise other than an occasional grunt. Lir thinks of those books again, of how the men were incredibly vocal and the women were all but on the brink of release from this alone. It's interesting, and satisfying, to know that he's enjoying what she's doing—she thinks he is, anyway, because he's not pulling her off—but there are no bolts of lust or anything like it. Just a curiosity that grows the more comfortable she becomes.

Finally he pulls away, leaving Lir coughing a bit as she sucks in one deep breath after another. The hand in her hair gently tugs and she stands, fully conscious of how close they are. There is a dull throb between her legs at being so close to his bare chest, the open shirt leaving her plenty to view in the corner of her eye. She licks her lips, her mouth going dry as she thinks of the nights she had touched herself and imagined a moment like this, where Credo would undress her and turn his attentions to her.

He turns them so she is pressed against his desk. Tugging her head back, he presses a kiss to her throat. Lir shudders, her hands grabbing onto the desk to keep herself steady as his mouth slides along her neck, his tongue swirling on her pulse between mouthing along the slope. 

Credo lets go of her hair and reaches behind her to undo the clasp on her bra. Lir flushes when it is tossed away, but his kiss turns to a bite on her neck as his palms press to her breasts. She gasps and arches into his touch, her arms shaking a bit with anticipation as he slowly rolls her flesh in his hands before teasing her nipples. Her core jolts with little shocks of pleasure, and she must bite her lip to keep from moaning his name.

"That's it," he murmurs. As before, it rings hollow, yet she still basks in it, curling her fingers into fists to avoid plunging them into his hair. Something tells her that he wouldn't be pleased if she did.

He draws away from her throat, his eyes on her chest as he presses her breasts together, his expression contemplative. Lir both wants and doesn't want to know what he's thinking, and she breathes a sigh of relief when his lips tilt. Then he gives her nipples a pinch, enough to sting without truly hurting, and she yelps with surprise, her back arching on impulse. "Ah," he chuckles, once she's settled and watching him with wide eyes, "so what they say is true. You  _ are  _ more sensitive."

"Who says?" she asks, startled.

Credo simply gives her a smirk before leaning in to kiss her collarbone. Then his mouth trails down her chest, and Lir squirms in anticipation as he nears her nipple. "You're excited," he murmurs, feeling his grin against her skin. "But just how excited?"

She bites her lip and drops her head back when his lips wrap around her nipple. Then his hand pushes her thigh open before cupping her sex, rubbing her through her panties. Lir whimpers, trying to close her legs, but Credo bites her nipple before straightening up to look down at her face. "Giving up what you want so soon?" he asks.

"N-no."

He cocks a brow, a patronizing hint in the corners of his smile. Lir forces herself to relax, holding his gaze despite how embarrassment heats her cheeks, and he hums as he resumes stroking her. It feels strange, but good, his touch more firm than her own tends to be, yet when she reaches for him, wanting to ground herself with  _ something,  _ he catches her wrists and pins them above her head with a disapproving tsk. "I will give you that one," he says, "but do not move your hands again unless I tell you to do so."

Lir nods. Credo eases back, and she remains laying on the desk, her legs dangling over the side and her arms over her head. She feels his hands return to her breasts, massaging her before sliding downwards, and she doesn't wait to be told when she lifts her hips as he tugs down her panties.

Credo presses her thighs up and open, her toes curling when he rubs his cock, now thick and leaking, against her opening. "You do want this," he chuckles, humming in approval as he coats his length with her arousal. "I have to say, you do look very lovely like this. You say you aren't meant for marriage, but I quite disagree."

The first true wave of hope blooms in her chest. She's nervous as hell, knowing what comes next in theory but not how it's going to feel, but his words lead her to believe that she's doing something right, that everything, as far as they're concerned, is going to be alright. Credo continues to rock against her for several moments, occasionally nudging her clit, before shifting his hips so the head of him presses to her entrance. He doesn't move quickly, but he also doesn't stop, sinking into her until his hips are flush to the back of her thighs.

And it is, quite frankly, a bit unpleasant.

There's no pain, just discomfort that makes it hard to remain still, though she tries. It's like the first time she tried to swing a sword, or the cramps that come once a month, a sensation that makes her tense as parts of her she wasn't entirely aware of are forced into use for the first time. Credo, for his part, seems more than content, the first groan she's heard from him reverberating through the room as he keeps himself buried within her. "Exquisite," he rasps. "So, you truly haven't done this before."

Unable to speak, Lir shakes her head. Credo eases back until he is only halfway buried, and then carefully fills her again. "Then I'll be sure to take extra care," he murmurs.

He moves just like this, slowly dragging his cock in and out of her body. It is hard and thick and she feels stretched uncomfortably, but it doesn't turn painful. Credo leans over her a bit, planting his palms on the desk, and Lir arches her back a bit to press her chest upwards. Credo smiles as his eyes drag down her body, and she feels a thrill of excitement. 

Eventually the pace picks up, and before long Credo is driving into her, his hips slapping hard against her thighs. Lir's entire body jolts with each thrust, but she keeps her eyes on his face that is drawn in pleasure. She keeps her arms above her head, just as he ordered, but she longs to reach for him, pull him against her and press a kiss to his lips, to feel his mouth on her body. Credo grunts and jerks harshly, and she thinks it must be over; but then his hand is heavy on her quivering stomach before it drags down between them and presses against her hood.

She cries out when he opens her lips and finds her clit; immediately he starts to rub the sensitive nub, his hand mimicking the pace of his hips. "I'm close," he pants.

"I . . ." His touch turns the sensation of his cock into something sharp and pleasing, jumbling her thoughts into a swirling mess. "I . . ."

"You're going to come for me, Lirael." He strokes her clit relentlessly, his eyes burning against her skin, and her voice locks in her throat. "You're going to come on my cock, and that's an order."

Lir moans, reaching for him, and when her hands press against his chest Credo curses. "Fuck," he hisses, "fuck, fuck . . ."

Hearing him lose control sends her over the edge; her orgasm snaps inside her core, and Lir cries out as she goes rigid against him. She can feel something warm and thick filling her up, making the friction slippery as Credo pounds inside of her body. His fingers rub against her clit until she gasps his name, and then he finally stops, pressing his hands once more on the desk as his hips slow to a stop.

He pulls out, the drag over her sensitive walls making her wince, and after he's tucked himself away and fastened his pants, he holds out a hand to help her off of the desk. "That was a wonderful idea," he says lowly, pressing her hair from her face. "It almost makes me wish you had come to me sooner."

"Almost?" She repeats, but he's re-buttoning his shirt and doesn't respond right away. "What do you mean, almost?"

Credo pauses, something unreadable flickering over his face. "Nineteen," he replies.

"Oh." Of course. With his position and reputation, doing anything with her before now would have been disastrous, and she relaxes and begins the hunt for her own clothes. "Does this mean . . .?"

"We'll see." His hands land on her waist as he presses his lips to her shoulder. "You've proven your dedication, but your loyalty . . . That will need further testing, I think."

"You want more?" Lir asks, her voice rising.

"Perhaps." His touch lingers on her shoulder before dragging down the front of her body. "I can trust you won't tell anyone? You could get in a lot of trouble for this, you know."

Lir swallows thickly. "Our secret."

Credo nods. "I never believed what others said about you. I knew you would be loyal."

Her face flushes in embarrassment, wondering who spoke about her, and why. She thinks briefly of her plans, the ideas feeling sour with the way he gazes at her now. All she ever wanted was Credo's attention, and now that she seems to have it, why does it feel wrong?


End file.
